Page 69 of The Beach Shack Artists 3
Joey, despite not having been invited, stared at them. “Did she just say ‘gravy spatula’ and you all think that makes sense?”
“Inside joke,” Tyler said.
“Weird inside joke,” Joey muttered, reaching for the bread. “This is amazing food, by the way. My pageant training has given me very refined taste.”
“How did you even know we were having dinner?” Bea asked.
“Stella texted me,” Joey said. “Plus, I could smell it from three blocks away.”
Margo smiled. “There’s always room for one more at this table.”
For twenty minutes, everything was normal. They talked about the coffee machine crisis, restaurant stuff, Joey’s pageant preparation. The kind of family dinner Stella had been hoping for but never expected after the mural disaster.
Then Anna started.
“So,” she said, looking guilty. “I should probably confess something.”
Tyler groaned. “Please tell me you didn’t redesign anything else.”
“No redesigning!” Anna said quickly. “I finished it. The piece that caused all the trouble during the health inspection.”
The table went quiet.
“And?” Stella prompted.
“And it’s... not terrible,” Anna admitted. “I mean, it’s not great, but it’s not the disaster I thought it would be.”
Bea leaned forward. “Are you thinking about submitting it?”
Anna hesitated. “Maybe? The Festival deadline is tomorrow, and I keep going back and forth. One minute I think it captures what I was trying to say about morning light and memory, and the next minute I think it’s just a mess.”
“What about you?” Meg asked Bea. “Did you finish yours?”
“Yeah, but I’m having the same problem as Mom.” Bea pushed vegetables around her plate. “I can’t tell if it’s good or if I just spent so much time on it that I’ve lost perspective.”
Anna nodded. “Exactly. I don’t trust myself anymore. I look at something and I can’t tell if it’s good or if I’m making it up.”
“That’s not true,” Bea said. “Your Florence work was beautiful. I watched you create some of the most amazing pieces I’ve ever seen. You haven’t lost anything.”
“What about you, Stella?” Anna asked. “Have you been working on anything?”
Stella felt her stomach tighten. “Not really. I mean, I’ve been taking pictures, but that’s just... documentation.”
“Can we see them?” Bea asked.
“They’re just random shots of the restaurant,” Stella said quickly. “Nothing special.”
Tyler gave her a look. “Come on. Show them the Bernie series.”
Stella wanted to glare at him for betraying their private moment, but instead she pulled out her phone. “Dad’s already seen these. They’re just pictures of people.”
She handed the phone to Anna, who immediately started laughing. “Oh my God,” Anna said, turning it so everyone could see. It was Bernie during the health inspection, his face showingperfect horror mixed with politeness. “You captured his essence! His concern, his disbelief, his weird affection for our disaster.”
“That’s Bernie’s ‘my friends are idiots but they’re my idiots’ face,” Tyler said.
“And this one,” Bea said, scrolling to another image. It showed Mrs. Henderson looking completely lost. “She looks like someone rearranged her universe.”
“Because Anna did rearrange her universe,” Meg said, laughing.
